The Sewer

The smell of lilac wafted through the air as their hands touched, fingers intertwined as they walked hand in hand across campus. Looking down he saw her diminutive figure and her long blonde hair flowing down across her shoulders that were sunkissed from the time at the lake. 

She smiled up at him, he was much taller and bigger in every way than she was, and the touch of his strong hand made her feel even smaller and that was OK when she was with him. She smelled him as he was so close and he smelled like a man, not a bad smell that repelled her but one that drew her even closer. It was the smell of a mix of citrus, spicy clove, and creamy woods and it clung to her even when they were apart. Sometimes as she woke up she still could take in that smell as she wrapped her arms around herself and thought of him.

Today as they walked and glanced lovingly at each other he bent down to smell her and take her in deeply. Then he breathed out and smiled hugely as he said softly to her, “You smell like a sewer.”

She immediately withdrew her hand from his and frowned. She stepped back and scowled up at him. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away. 

He didn’t have a clue what offended her. After just a moment of watching her heading in the opposite direction from him, he hurried to catch up with her. As she continued to walk quickly he walked beside her and then asked, “What’s up? I thought we were having a good afternoon. I know I was. What’s wrong?”

His words irritated her delicate ears. How could he be this clueless? How could he tell me that I smelled like a sewer? Who did he think he was to treat me this way?

She finally stopped and turned towards him and grabbed his beard and yanked at it over and over and over. He was surprised and pained by the tugs on it and she didn’t stop. But then finally he grabbed her little soft hands and pushed them away from him.

“Why are you so mad at me? What did I do that was wrong? I didn’t forget our six-month anniversary today. I thought you liked the necklace of the sailboat that I gave you to remind you of how we met by the lake that day and both were watching the sailboat go by. Just tell me. What have I done? You’re small but you yanked out some hair from my beard and that hurt. What is wrong with you?”

She reached toward his big face again but didn’t pull at his beard. Instead, she slapped him. Hard. His mouth flew open and he just stared at her. There was no anger in him but just a wondering look about why she struck him.

Finally, she stood her ground, looked up into his face from directly below him, and said, “You told me that I smell like a sewer! That was a nasty thing to tell your girlfriend. I showered today. You are the one that may need to shower more often, even though I really don’t mind. But a sewer? You think I smell like a sewer?”

He took it in. Waited. And then got a sheepish grin on his face. “Oh, when you put it that way I guess I should explain. But really, I meant it as a compliment.”

She immediately turned and stomped in the opposite direction again as he rushed to keep up with her. She was a slight girl but when she got moving she could keep up quite a pace. Finally, he put his big hand on her shoulder and said, “Please, stop. Let me explain.”

She walked forward a moment and then turned and faced him, crossing her arms across her chest. Looking up at him she said, “OK buster, you’ve got three minutes to explain yourself. I guess I owe you that much. Go ahead. Make this one go away.”

He paced briefly, walked back to her, then led her to a nearby bench where she sat down. As she sat she couldn’t help but smell him as he was so close. She loved how he smelled. She took it all in. She took him in. How could he think that she smelled like a sewer? And how could he tell her that and not think she would get mad?

He knelt in front of her on the grass as she sat on the bench. He wanted to touch her soft hands. To take them into his and kiss them. But he knew that wasn’t a good idea right now. He hoped that later he might.

He looked at her and said, “You have never been to my home yet though I hope to take you there when we can get away. I’d love for you to meet my Mom and see where I grew up. I suppose it isn’t much to look at from your perspective. You grew up in a big house in a city and everything looked great and the lawn was neatly mowed. And that’s a good thing. It must have been very nice for you.

But where I grew up was quite different. It was in a little village where a lot of people had small houses. Lots of my friends lived in those but I didn’t. I lived on the edge of the village in a trailer. It wasn’t much but it was ours. Mom always made sure the inside was clean and neat and we had everything we needed. I mowed the grass, complaining about it sometimes especially when I was nine or ten and wanted to be playing baseball with my friends. But as I grew through my teen years I didn’t really mind cutting the grass. I liked the smell of it. The newly cut grass had a certain smell that was different than before. I liked it. I didn’t know it at the time but that smell was the smell of home, of love.

When I smelled it I just knew that whatever happened, I was OK because my Mom was looking after me and God had our back. The smell was pure heaven to me.

For the longest time, I thought the smell was just the grass when I had cut it. Then at some point, I realized that out front between our front yard and the road, where there was no sidewalk because there weren’t any in our neighborhood, there was a little ditch. When it rained water ran through it and because of that sometimes it would smell, like a sewer. But believe it or not, it wasn’t a bad smell because there were lilacs growing there along that ditch. They smelled so good.

So when I would be out mowing I would smell those lilacs in that sewer of a ditch and the flowers invigorated me. They showed me that there could be beauty, in this case, a beautiful smell, even in a drainage ditch. I loved that smell.

So today when I said you smelled like a sewer I know I should have chosen my words better but I actually meant it as a compliment. Your perfume. Your lilac smell. I love it. I love the way you smell. Being with you, smelling you, is like being home to me. The best place. The place of love.”

She leaned over and put her arms around his big neck and hugged him tightly and laughed, “Well, when you put it that way. I guess it’s a good thing to smell like a sewer.”

The Pickup - Her Perspective

Driving my new pickup, well new for me anyway, I drove into town and towards the hotel where he worked. Actually, it wasn’t just where he worked, he owned the place. 

Dad had finally given me his truck which I had adored since I was little and I was getting away in it for the summer to earn some money for college this fall. I decided to go to his town, the place where the man lived that I had never met. My Dad’s Dad, my grandfather, and I had never met him. 

As I drove I thought about how he had abandoned my Dad and my Dad’s Mom twenty years ago and left them with just this old pickup truck and an apology that he just had to get away. Grandma always told me that she didn’t have any hard feelings but wished he had at least checked in on his son sometimes and then hoped he would have gotten to know me once I was born. But he hadn’t. He just left the truck in his driveway at home with a note that when my Dad turned 18 he wanted this to be his birthday present. A twenty-year-old truck and that was it. He was gone. 

Dad cherished that truck. He drove it all over even when he had other cars too once he got married and had a family. But I knew the old pickup was his favorite. It was his only link to his Dad. 

Grandma said that her husband couldn’t settle down but she could. So she married a few years later to a guy who was very nice to her and provided well for her and was the only Grandpa that I ever knew. My mom’s parents had died in a car wreck before I was born so I never had grandparents other than Grandma and her second husband. 

Dad seemed to do well and I think he worked harder at his own marriage than anybody I knew and they got along great. And they had me so why wouldn’t they be happy. Smile.

I never really thought about my real Grandpa until three years ago when my substitute Grandpa died. Grandma was so sad for a long time and talked about how good their lives had been together. But then sometimes she would talk about Dad’s Dad and somehow it was always with fondness. And she talked about how he had done really well for himself and owned a hotel five hundred miles away and had even sent her a sympathy card when her second husband died with a nice check inside it to help with funeral expenses. I could tell that she didn’t care about the money but she smiled to think that he knew what had happened to her and cared enough to send it to her.

Anyway, when Dad gave me his pickup truck I mostly cared about it because it was Dad’s truck and I loved him. The truck reminded me of him and his giving it to me told me that he wanted me to have something that was really important to him. It was probably his most prized possession so I know he thought a lot about it before he gave it to me.

Then when I decided to go away for the summer to earn some money on my own to get used to being out there, away from home, before college I started thinking about where I should go. There were lots of places that I could have gone but I decided to make it an adventure and just start driving and wherever I ended up I would find a place to stay and get a job. I had a thousand dollars so I wasn’t broke and knew I could get along OK until I got my first paycheck in a few weeks.

So I’m driving down the road and start seeing signs for cities ahead and how many miles it was to them and I saw a sign to the city that I had heard Grandma mention was where the check was from that her first husband, Dad’s Dad, was from. I thought to myself well it couldn’t hurt to drive there and at least look around. Wouldn’t it be funny if I ran into Grandpa somewhere, the man I have never known as Grandpa? But who knows maybe I’ll see him at a mall or a restaurant or something.

The only reason I would even know what he looks like is that I saw a picture of him in an old photo album that Grandma has of Dad when he was little. Of course, Grandpa was in some of those pictures so maybe I’d see the resemblance now that he’s older. Probably gray hair now or he could be bald I suppose but I bet he’s not bald. The pictures showed him with lots of thick hair like Dad has. And like I have actually. At least he gave me something good.

So I’m about ready to pull into a hotel and see if they have any rooms left for the night when I see this nice SUV about ready to pull out. For some reason, I looked into that vehicle as I was turning and saw a man that looked like Grandpa might have looked. I have no idea why but it flustered me so much that instead of taking my foot off the gas I pushed it down harder and it felt like I even got mad as I drove my truck into his car. I think for a moment I was just so angry at him for abandoning my Dad, and in a way me because he never checked on any of us. 

I hit his car and stopped with a thud. My head bounced off of my steering wheel but I was OK because I had my seat belt on. I could tell right away that I would be in big trouble and that my truck was a mess. I moaned and then I saw him get out of his car and check on me. He really seemed worried that I might be hurt. He didn’t care anything about my truck, didn’t seem to notice it at all at first, and was just concerned about me.

I got out of the truck and moaned some more but told him I was OK that it was just the truck that I was worried about because it looked like it was in big trouble. He told me not to worry about it because my insurance would pay for the damages even if my rates went up some but that the truck could get fixed up until I could buy a good one. I gave him a mean look and told him that my Dad loved that truck and drove it for twenty years and my Grandpa, who I never met, had driven it from new for twenty years before that, and I intended to drive it for the rest of my life.

He said he didn’t mean anything by it but then I told him that I didn’t have any insurance yet that I was going to get some as soon as I got a job. He frowned that I was driving without insurance but then seemed to notice the truck. He walked closer to it and touched the hood. Then I saw it. He knew the truck. He knew it in a special way. He realized that it had been his truck.

Then he looked at me and I could tell he knew who I must be but he didn’t say anything. He called a friend of his who worked on trucks and his friend came over to tow it to his place and I could tell that his friend knew the truck too. It seems they had known each other since they were kids. That guy knew not only my Grandpa but the truck too.

As the truck was being towed my Grandpa, who hadn’t told me who I was, told me that I could stay at the hotel while the truck was being fixed. I told him that would be nice but I would work for it, I didn’t take anything for nothing. He said that wasn’t necessary but seemed kind of impressed that I wanted to work so he gave me a job. We walked into the hotel with my suitcases and he got me checked into a room and then introduced me to the person who would help me get started working there cleaning rooms.

I started working there and would work every day and my Grandpa would be away all day but we would eat dinner at the hotel every night. We talked about all kinds of things. He asked about my life and what I was interested in and about my parents. Once I mentioned my Grandma and he asked how she was and I told her about Grandpa dying and he said he was sorry. He never let on that he knew any of us and I didn’t tell him.

Then after a week, my truck was fixed and his friend brought it to the hotel for me. I asked him how much I owed him and he said nothing that he was just glad to be able to work on it again. As soon as he said that he realized he had said something he shouldn’t have and tossed me the keys and went over to where his assistant was who was driving him back to work.

I looked at Grandpa and he stuttered and stammered and finally, I walked back into the hotel and worked my shift for the day. He went on to where he was buying another hotel and came back that evening. He saw me from his room and walked out on the balcony as I was getting in my truck to drive it. He yelled down that he was sorry that he hadn’t told me that I was his granddaughter. 

The door slammed as I got in and drove away. I was mad right then that after all that time with me he hadn’t wanted to tell me who he was. We had been together for a whole week and he hadn’t said a word. He just pumped me for information about my family, his family.

For a few minutes, I thought about just driving away. But then I thought about my luggage and the clothes that were at the hotel. Honestly, though that is not what I cared about. I cared about this man who I had never known. This man seemed a lot different now than the man must have been when he left my Grandma and Dad. Maybe he should get another chance. With me, with my Dad, and who knows, maybe even with Grandma. 

I didn’t know about all of that for sure but I found myself circling some streets and coming back into the hotel parking lot from the other side. He was still out on the balcony with his head leaning on the railing. I pulled up and yelled up to him, “Hey, Grandpa. Want to go for a ride? I’ll even let you drive your truck.”

He looked down at me and could hardly speak as he said, “I sure do, but it’s your truck now. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier about who I was.”

I smiled at him and said, “Ah don’t worry about it. Why do you think I hit you?”

The Pickup - His Perspective

She slammed the door of her pickup as she saw me step out onto the hotel balcony and shout to her. She hadn’t said a word. Didn’t tell me anything. Just drove away. There was no use for me to yell or run downstairs and out the lobby door because she was gone. Completely. Irrevocably. Gone. 

As I leaned on the balcony railing and watched her drive out of my life I thought of how she had just driven into it, into me, literally, one week before. I had been pulling out of this same parking lot when she came around the corner and drove her beat-up pickup truck into me. It didn’t cause any damage to me or my SUV but her truck pretty much fell apart upon impact. The next moment she did. Fall apart.  

I got out of my car quickly, glancing at my car and seeing that it was OK and feeling that I was, I heard her crying with her head on the steering wheel. Her window was down and I looked in and was glad to see that she wasn’t bleeding. But she looked miserable. She looked over at me with the saddest face and then started crying again. 

I told her that I was OK and my vehicle was fine and she seemed OK. Then she wailed something about her truck and how she had destroyed it and it had belonged to her grandfather and then to her Dad and now it was hers. I told her he would probably understand and she started crying again and said he had given it to her three months ago and this was his pride and joy that he had driven for twenty years after her grandfather had driven it for twenty before that. I said that I could see that and she gave me a mean look and I said I didn’t mean anything by it.  

Then she sniffled and got out of the car and looked at the front of it. It was smashed in and I could tell it would cost her insurance company a bunch to fix it. I told her not to worry because that’s why we all have insurance and at least she wouldn’t have to pay to fix my car or me but that just set her off crying again. It seems she didn’t have insurance that she came to this town to get a job and then she would get insurance. 

I knew then that there was nothing that I could say to make her happy. She was in some trouble because her truck looked totaled to me because it was so old and would probably cost more to fix it than it was worth. On the other hand, since it was so old maybe she could get it running somehow for a while anyway. It’s not like it had to look great. It just had to run. 

It was then that I looked at the truck more closely and ran my hand across the bumper that was hanging off. I told her that I had a friend who had a garage where he worked on older vehicles and maybe he could fix hers enough for her to drive it until she could afford a good one. She glared at me and said thanks but her truck was a classic and if my friend could get it fixed she would drive it forever. 

I called my buddy and soon he pulled up in his tow truck. He looked over the truck and then at me. I nodded and he smiled. He told the girl that he had the parts needed and he could fix it in about a week. She said thanks and watched as her truck was towed away after she got a suitcase out of it.  

I told her she could stay at this hotel while her truck was being fixed because I owned it and we had some available rooms. She said ok but only if she could work for it. I told her that wasn't necessary but she said it was. 

So I got her checked in and introduced her to the head of housekeeping who put her to work cleaning rooms. She seemed fine doing that and I left and went to the meeting that I had across town that I was very late for. But I didn't care. 

That week she cleaned and I finished the deal across town. Each evening we ate dinner together and talked for hours, mostly about her. Sometimes about her dad, and her mom. She said she was an only child but didn't mind. She had lots of friends and was taking the summer off before college. I tried to talk her out of working but she wouldn't hear of it. She would work for her keep. Besides, she said she would need money for the truck repairs. 

Finally, the truck was all fixed and my buddy delivered it to the hotel. She walked around it and smiled excitedly. She said it hadn't looked this good in twenty years. I said try forty. 

She asked my friend how much she owed him. He just waved and said he and I had been friends since we were kids and it was all taken care of. She didn't owe a thing. He was just glad to work on the truck again. 

As he walked away she looked at me and then just walked back into the hotel. I didn't see her all day but found out that she worked her shift. Then that evening I saw her from my room and walked out on the balcony just as she opened the door of her truck. 

I'm sorry I didn't tell you I yelled to her. And I'm sorry for a lot more...granddaughter. 

I stayed on the balcony as I watched her drive away in my old truck. My eyes misted as I thought of what I missed, what I had lost. 

Then I heard the truck pull into the parking lot from the other direction. The sound of it was unmistakable. As was her voice when she yelled to me, “Hey Grandpa, want to go for a ride in your truck?” 

I could hardly speak as I said, “It's your truck now, but yes. And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier about who I was.”  

She smiled up and told me “It's ok. Why do you think I hit you?”

A Rich Life: So much loss in life. But now...I'm kind of OK

I was just a kid when my Grandpa died. I knew I would miss him but what I “missed” in all of it was that he was my mom’s dad. She would miss him greatly. I missed all of that, but I was just a kid. But still, how did I not see that my Mom was without her Daddy? I missed so many things when I was a child. Most of them aren’t even a part of my memories. I don’t recall much from those years.

Just thinking more about Grandpa though, I guess part of the process for people was that he had cancer and had really suffered. I didn’t know much about that at the time of course. I hadn’t seen him at his worst. I really was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I? I missed even the simple thing of seeing someone I loved in pain. But I did love him. He was a good man, a good Grandpa. And then he was gone.

Then here is the craziest thing of all, well maybe not the craziest because that surely came later, but about a decade after Grandpa died my mom got sick and I saw her in the hospital. She was supposed to get better so I left and drove home for a job interview. I took the drive, went for the interview, for a job I didn’t get by the way, and then got a phone call. My Mom had died.

She wasn’t supposed to. She wasn’t that sick. She was supposed to get better. She was. They told me that. I wouldn’t have left her otherwise. I would have stayed at the hospital to be with her every moment that I could, to hold her hand and tell her that I loved her. I love you, Mommy.

Then the whirlwind of viewings and funerals and all those people who wanted to tell me how sorry they were. But then they went home to their complete families and happy lives and I was on my own, Mom was gone.

My life changed when she died. My family changed. The hurt and pain and loss inside stayed with me as I knew that this could happen again. I wasn’t going to let it, not again. I wasn’t going to let anyone else in that might leave me. She wasn’t supposed to do that, to leave me. She was supposed to always be with me. That’s what Moms are supposed to do, at least not for a long long time until she got very old. But she was gone.

I went on with my life doing the best I could. Actually, I had a pretty good life finally. I still missed her like crazy but little by little I thought I was over it, the pain, not her. But inside I knew that was a lie. I wasn’t over her death.

It was about a decade and a half after Mom’s death that I got a call that my sister had died in a car accident. Instant death on an icy road. She was way too young to be dead, even younger than my Mom had been. I was so mad. So very mad. I couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened to her? You would think that I would have learned but again it seemed like it was all about me. I was so upset but she had children and it must have been so much worse for them. 

I think when something like this happens there is no need to compare your pain with someone else. We all had pain. We all had losses. But they lost their Mom. I knew what that was like.

But here’s the crazy thing. Somewhere in the grieving for my sister, I realized that the grief for my Mom was less than it had been. Crazy, right? How could that be? I would have thought that the grief that I was still bearing for the loss of my Mom combined with what I experienced in my sister’s death would have doubled what I felt. But it didn’t.

I don’t know why. I have no idea. But when my sister died, and in the middle of my grief for her, I accepted my Mom’s death. Life was just going to be like that I guess. One pain doesn’t wipe out another but sometimes it exposes what has already diminished and you just didn’t realize it.

It wasn’t a good thing that my sister died. I’ll never figure that one out. I guess it’s not my business to figure it out. But I am so grateful to have known her for so many years.

And my Mom? Who could have guessed that the only way to ease her leaving me was to have another one I loved to leave me. To see it wasn’t all about me perhaps.

Now Mom’s with Grandpa and my sister is with them both. I’m still here and still missing them and you know what? I’m Ok. 

Well, kind of OK.

The Mystery of the Congressman and the Jazz Club. Part 2: The Culprit

The rock bounced off Ethan’s head as he was driving home on the dark road. Then he noticed that there was a hole in the windshield. That was the order of perception. First, the feeling of something bouncing off his head and then seeing that strangely, he was looking through a hole in his windshield. 

He wasn’t hurt by the rock through the windshield. It kind of glanced off of the steering wheel and grazed his head lightly and ended up on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat. Or maybe it hadn’t hit him. Maybe it was the opening up of a hole in the windshield that made him think when he saw the rock that it had hit him. But he wasn’t hurt. That was it. It must not have struck him. 

Just down the road he pulled off to the side of the four-lane highway and assessed the damages and thought about what had happened. He realized that he had gone under an overpass and someone must have thrown the rock down at his car. Randomly most likely. He couldn’t imagine at that moment that anyone was targeting him. All he knew was that he had to drive on. He had to get away from the culprit who had done this to him. 

Culprit. What a word and it sped into and out of his mind as quickly as the hole in the windshield had appeared. Some culprit had thrown a rock and now he had a damaged windshield and he had to get back on the road and away from this place. Maybe the culprit, he kept thinking that word over and over, would see him from the overpass, see that he had pulled over, and come down to finish the job. But why? Why would he have someone trying to kill him?

Then, slowly, he remembered why he had gotten out of town early on Saturday morning in the first place, why he had taken this spur-of-the-moment trip by himself. He had relaxed so much the last few days that on the drive home this dark night he was just listening to some jazz on the radio and feeling safe before the open windshield jolted him back to reality. The jazz continued to play and reminded him of his seeing his Congressman coming out of the jazz club a few weekends back, just before it was announced that his Congressman had died at home after being sick for a week. But he knew better.

And now as he realized why the rock might have been thrown through his windshield he realized that this was no random incident, not just someone drunk or letting off steam or showing off to his friends that he could hit a car with a rock. He was targeted. Ethan began to realize as he drove that if the rock would have come through the windshield and struck him directly in the face he might well have crashed the car and died. The news wouldn’t even have made much of a splash what with all the car accidents that happen from time to time.

The more he thought of what could have happened the shakier he felt as he drove. As quickly as he could he went to a friend’s house and knocked on the door even though it was late. She opened the door and said the kids were in bed and her husband wasn’t home yet from work but of course he could come inside. She could tell that something had happened to him as soon as she opened the door and took one look. 

Ethan closed the door behind him and locked it and looked out the front window. He walked around very nervously as he told her about the rock through his windshield. He didn’t tell her his speculations and what had happened about the Congressman but he told her about the accident itself and that he was worried that someone might be after him. She tried to calm him down and assure him that those kinds of things happened randomly from time to time and that it was all over now. He felt calmer hearing her say that but kept pacing and as he walked into the kitchen he noticed that the overhead light bulb was out. 

She knew where a bulb was so soon she was standing on a chair with a bulb and replacing the burned-out one when it slipped from her hand. It seemed to explode when it hit the floor and Ethan panicked. It was like a shot had been fired and any calmness that had come upon him was instantly gone and he felt under attack. He balled up on the couch in the living room and she pulled him into her arms and held him for a long time telling him that it was just a broken bulb and that he was OK. He was safe now she said over and over. 

Ethan rocked back and forth as he was held. He was like a child but also inside him he knew that he had reason to be afraid. Not from a light bulb or anyone in this home but from someone, some organization, that knew that he knew too much. A weekend away couldn’t make this all go away now. Two Congressmen were now dead and he might be the only one to know that there was a link between them and that the link was that if one more Congressman died and was replaced by a governor of the opposing party the majority in the House of Representatives would shift.

Would people really kill to take over power in Washington? It seemed as absurd to him now as it had when he had first thought of it. But now someone was after him too. Someone wanted to make his death look like an accident just like they made his Congressman’s death look like it was from some illness. If they would kill two Congressmen they would have no problem justifying killing him as well and eliminating any more questions. So many thoughts ran through his mind as she held him to calm him down. He started to relax in her arms.

Then he heard the garage door go up, a car driving in, and the garage door go back down. His friend let go of the hug as she slid to the other end of the couch. Just then Ethan’s phone rang. It was the voice of the man who had warned him before. He said to get out of the house. Now. 

Ethan told his friend he needed to take this call in private as he got up and went out the back door, waving at her husband as he walked in from the garage. His friend smiled and then his expression changed as he saw the look on Ethan’s face as he saw who walked in behind him. It was the man from the jazz club. The one who without a doubt in Ethan’s mind knew the real cause of death of the Congressman.

Ethan ran around the house to his car and jumped in. Then he raced away, looking out through the hole in the windshield. He didn’t know for sure but it definitely was a good possibility that the jazz club man was behind a lot of what was happening. But why was he there at his friend’s house that night? Was the long hug a set up to give her husband plenty of time to get home that night? Ethan didn’t think so. It didn’t feel staged to him. He felt comforted by a caring friend. Nothing out of the ordinary in that.

But regardless of why the jazz club man showed up right then, Ethan thought of one real possibility. That man might well be the one who threw the rock through his windshield and was looking to finish the job. He definitely could be the culprit.

A wave is a beginning

She waved and I had to stop and think why as I waved back. Then he waved and I waved at him as well as I kept walking down the street. Strangers. They were strangers. Or were they?

I felt a smile grow across my face as I realized that I had walked these streets and waved at people as they drove or walked past me for many months. And here I was now wondering why someone else had waved at me, first. They were most likely people that I had been waving at and now they were so used to seeing me wave that they waved before I did. It was kind of nice actually.

Just a little thing, waving at people. But in a world that sometimes separates us by our words, a simple action like a wave can push that all aside, at least for a moment. When I wave at someone it doesn’t matter to me what they think about pandemics, or elections, or even religions, or lifestyles, or nationalities, or races. None of that matters when I just look up and smile and wave at someone. A smile and a wave and we are just two people who aren’t alone for a moment. Two people who have cared enough, even if it is just a little bit, to communicate with one other person that we see them. They are real. They are right there. They are an acquaintance even if just for a moment.

But then when weeks go on and months and perhaps years the acquaintance grows to a friendly word if we walk by each other on the street and maybe a hello if we pass in the aisle of a store. Small things really but important things, valuable actions which show that we value the other person and they value us. 

There is a lot of meanness in the world sometimes. It can come from me. It can come from you. It can come from a stranger. But whoever it comes from it is there because we have decided to devalue the other person and think that they don’t matter as much as my own opinion matters. We decide that our beliefs are right and our way of handling life is the only right way and that if someone disagrees with us that they aren’t worthy of our respect.

Of course, we allow ourselves to change, to get new information, to see that our new way of thinking is now the right way but when we don’t allow that same possibility to someone else we cut off something very important. We cut off civility and we cut ourselves off from people who may think differently than we do but are still people, people with hopes and dreams and hurts and problems. Some of these people were friends or at least acquaintances until we saw them attack our beliefs or actions and we do the same to them. Sometimes we do that to stand up for a person that we don’t even know or a belief that we may change with new information. It’s sad really that I might do that. That you might do that.

And so I wave. I take walks and I wave at those I pass as they walk and I wave at cars as they pass me by even when I can’t see the face of the driver clearly. But I still wave. The world needs friendly contacts. People need to see a friendly face. They may be on the way to a job that they wish they didn’t have to go to and they have customers who may be rude to them but they can’t be rude back because they have to be friendly in their position, in their job.

The person I smile and wave at might be walking their dog because they just had to get out of the house because of a difficult relationship with a person there or because if they don’t get outside from an empty house they feel like they will explode with sadness. The person driving by doesn’t expect a stranger to be friendly to them but when it happens it can be startling the first time but when it happens another day it becomes a chance to wave back. 

Then comes the day that the other person waves first because they know I am going to and they are glad. It’s hard to call that a friendship. It’s not much of an acquaintanceship either. But it’s something. 

Maybe it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or maybe, and this is OK too, it’s just the beginning of a beautiful day.

Lilac Love

By the time I got to work that Monday, I realized that I was lost. Sounds funny to say I know but really, I was lost. Not that I didn’t know the way to my job. Of course, I knew that. I was lost from meeting, even for the briefest of moments, the new waitress at the diner that I always stop at on the way to work for a quick breakfast. I pretty much wolf my food down and while I was doing that I heard a laugh from behind me. I looked up and saw her smiling and telling me to slow down that I might choke on it. 

She must have just walked in and started her shift because I had never seen her working here before today. She wasn’t my regular waitress but after getting my breakfast placed in front of me my regular one said she had been working since midnight and had to leave now and someone else would help me if I needed anything else, figuring that I wouldn’t because she knew I always gulped and ran.

Looking up I saw her, the new one. She was laughing at me but I could tell it was just good-natured and as she bent down to pour me another cup of coffee I could smell the lilac perfume that she was wearing. I breathed her in a second time and said how great the smell was and she asked if I meant the coffee but I said no that I meant her and she smiled again and thanked me and said she was glad that I thought she smelled better than the coffee. I said she smelled amazing much better than any coffee I had ever smelled. She said Lilac Love and I said yes. She blushed and said that was the name of the perfume and then added that she would be back to check on me and then quickly turned to go back for an order that was just ready now.

I slowed down eating and just sipped my coffee slowly. I was in no hurry now to be anywhere other than here. I watched her go from customer to customer and be friendly with all of them but see her look over at me at times and smile and then look back at the people that she was serving.

I glanced at my watch and realized I was barely going to make it to work on time even if I pretty much ran out of here now so I waved her over and thanked her for the excellent service she had given me. She said she was happy to serve me and I said that I was happy to be served and then we both looked away and then back and laughed. I told her that I had to hurry to work now but planned to come back for dinner here after work and wondered if she would still be working then. She said she would be and said that she hoped I would get back before her shift ended at 6. I told her I’d see her by then and maybe we could talk more and she said she would like that. I looked at her and said Lilac Love. She said yes.

I hurried out of there after leaving a very big tip and now I was at work just barely before my first appointment of the day. It was a big client for the company but my mind was somewhere else and I was really glad that my co-worker knew the presentation as much as I did. He covered for me big time and the client seemed very happy with our proposal and said they would let us know soon but that we should expect a positive response.

As soon as they left my co-worker Bill asked me where my mind was today. I told him that I had just met the most wonderful woman I had ever imagined. He just laughed and said that she must be pretty great because I had a big imagination. Now I grinned and said she was pretty and great and I wasn’t imagining it. Then I got back to work for the rest of the day because I had so much to do with other clients as well.

It was 5:45 when I was wrapping up and I realized that I had to leave immediately if I had any chance of getting to the diner before her shift ended. I rushed out and got to the diner and opened the front door right at 6:00 and looked around for her and didn’t see her. I sank into a booth and was so disappointed and yelled at myself in my head about working so long and getting here late. What kind of an impression would that make if I didn’t show up when I said I would? 

Then I heard a voice behind me say if I was going to be this late then I better just get up and get out of this place. I looked up and saw the smile on her face as she continued and said let’s go somewhere else because she needed a change of scenery. Without a word I put a $20 bill on the table and left with her. She said hey, I didn’t leave that big a tip for her that morning and I smiled and said I would make up for that in the days ahead for sure.

She had changed out of her uniform and now had on a cute little purple dress and purple sneakers. It all went well with her Lilac Love perfume that I breathed in deeply as we walked through the doorway together.

As we walked she told me that her name was Mindy and that she had just moved to town last week and started her job this morning. I told her that I was Gabe and had lived around here all of my life, so far. She laughed and said then I would be the perfect tour guide and I said it would be my pleasure.

I wanted to stop and look her in the eyes and kiss her right then. I wanted to tell her that I would always be her tour guide wherever she wanted to go. So many more thoughts were running through my mind as we walked but I didn’t stop, didn’t kiss her, just took her hand without looking and felt the electricity of touching her and realizing that she let me take her hand. 

She asked where I was taking her and I replied did it matter and she said no she trusted me. After all, I was her tour guide now. She would go anywhere I took her.

I took her to a place I had eaten at a lot of times that had the best tacos in town and she grinned as we went inside and said that she loved tacos and that now she was really hooked on her tour guide. We sat and ate tacos and talked for hours until the place got ready to close and then we went outside and she got in a cab that would take her home. That was her choice. I wanted to go with her but she said no a cab was fine and besides she better get right to bed because she worked early the next morning. I told her I would see her for breakfast and she jumped in the cab and waved as the driver pulled away.

I walked home from there and it was after midnight when I got to my place. I was still wired and didn’t get to sleep for several more hours just thinking of her and smelling her perfume that still lingered on me. Lilac Love. Yes.

I woke up late and knew I didn’t have much time for breakfast before my first appointment of the day at work but I got to the diner and had just a few minutes to eat. I sat in my usual booth and my usual waitress came over and poured me a cup of coffee and asked if I wanted my usual. I told her I did and asked if the new waitress, Mindy, was in yet. She looked at me kind of strangely and said that Mindy was supposed to be in an hour ago but hadn’t shown up. Then about half an hour ago the manager said that Mindy had quit and wouldn’t be in anymore.

She could tell that I was upset and she told me that everybody there had liked Mindy when she worked the day before and were very surprised that she would just up and quit after just one day and without any notice. I said yeah I was surprised too and that I had to leave and get to work for an early appointment. I didn’t have time for my breakfast but I gave her the money for it anyway along with a big tip and told her to give my food to someone who came in next and tell them it was a gift.

She looked at me funny but then smiled and said OK and I ran out the door and to my job, barely getting there before my first appointment. I tried to put Mindy out of my head for now at least because I had to get this appointment right or I would never get a promotion at this place. 

When I got back to my office after my appointment in the meeting room there were some flowers on my desk. They were lilacs. No signature on the card. It just read Lilac Love. I breathed them in deeply and said yes.

I spent the next month trying to find Mindy. I asked the diner for her address and even though they couldn’t give it to me for privacy reasons my regular waitress told me what she knew. I checked the apartment and the manager told me that the tenant had only been there a week, had paid for the month and paid a security deposit, and had just disappeared. The manager said that Mindy had left a note apologizing for leaving without notice but hoped that they would forgive her. She left a check for rent for the next two months and hoped they would be able to rent it out by then and not lose any money because of her leaving so soon.

Nobody else that I found knew much about her or where she had come from or where she might have gone. It seemed like a dead end. I tried to put her out of my mind. After all, I had only known her one day. But that one day was the best day I had ever experienced in my life. Still, I had to keep working hard at my job even while I did all I could think of to find her. Where could she have gone? Why did she leave without any word at all except for sending me the lilacs? I mean, yes, it was a nice touch but I wanted more of an explanation. She didn’t really owe me that after such a short time but I wanted it anyway.

It was about a year later that I was walking through the mall and walked past a little shop that sold cards and perfume. I smelled lilacs and it brought everything back. Lilac Love. 

Then it hit me. Lilac Love. Maybe she was connected somehow with that perfume. So I walked into the shop and asked if they sold a perfume that smelled like lilac. The sales clerk said yes they did. She said that they had one that had just come out in the last few months but it was very popular now already. I asked if I could see it and smell it. She said of course and got it and brought it to me. She opened the bottle and I knew that was it. That was what Mindy had been wearing. I had to have it. As the sales clerk brought the packaging out to wrap it up for me I stopped her. I picked up the packaging and there it was. Lilac Love by Mindy. There was an address on the box and I paid for it all quickly and took it out of the store and was practically running through the mall. I got outside and looked at the address and saw that it was a thousand miles away but I didn’t care. I got in my car and started driving and called my office along the way and said that I had an emergency and that Bill could handle anything for me while I was gone.

I drove and drove not stopping for much at all until I was so tired that I had to pull over in a parking lot and sleep a few hours. Then I started driving again until I finally got to the address. I parked and ran to the door but no one answered. It was closed. I was so dejected and so tired and so hungry so I walked down the street and into a diner where I ordered some coffee and some food.

The waitress brought me my food and as she walked away I started shoveling it in. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was and this tasted good and I ate very fast. Then in a haze, I heard someone behind me telling me to slow down that I might choke on it. I looked up and saw her. It was Mindy in her cute little purple dress and purple sneakers. 

She sat down across from me and reached out and took my hands. I pulled her hands gently to my lips and kissed them. As I did I smelled lilac. You smell great as always I told her. Thanks, she said. I have so much to tell you. I’m hoping you can forgive me. Things happened so fast. Still, I was hoping you would find me. I trusted that you were a good tour guide. My tour guide. That you wouldn’t lose me.

I told her that I was the one who was lost right from the start. That I was lost in her from the moment I saw her and then I was lost when she went away. But now, here I was and here she was. She could tell me her story and I very much wanted to hear it. But what I wanted most was Lilac Love. She smiled and just said yes.